


Onawÿ

by manic_intent



Series: Kawatsire [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Animalistic, Connor gets his own back?, Incest, Light Bondage, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 05:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[FULL SPOILERS FOR AC3] Written for the kink meme: "Sometimes Connor gets enough of daddy's attitude and teaches him a lesson that he's not to be trifled with either. Of course, Haytham struggles every step of the way."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Onawÿ

**Author's Note:**

> ok I think this concludes all the interesting prompts in the meme for this pairing. phew. need to get back to other fics.

The trick to getting onto Haytham's blind side, Connor realized, was to get him tired.

This was possibly why Haytham always seemed to pursue the path of least effort where anything was involved; when he was weary, his guard dropped, he made mistakes, and best of all, he grew slower. Internal Templar unrest had been roiling for a while, especially after the Templar hold on power in some of the other colonies had been displaced, and Connor watched Haytham take on longer and longer nights, negotiating redistributions of power and resources, and bided his time, waiting for the old wolf to make his first slip.

And then - about a week or so after that humiliating spanking incident, he had his chance.

Connor shared Haytham's bed most of the time now when he was in New York, if only because often it was too much effort to drag himself back to his room after their bedroom trysts, and as much as it had been odd at first, abed with another person and trying to sleep through their breathing, he'd grown used to it. Haytham, however, was usually a light sleeper, and was usually either awake before Connor or at the moment that Connor roused. 

Tonight, however, Haytham had disrobed carelessly - a first clue - shucked off his shoes without arranging them, dropped his jacket over a chair and had slumped under the sheets without even bothering to untie his hair or finish changing into nightclothes for bed, his breath evening almost instantly into a dead slumber. Small wonder - the old wolf had been operating on about three hours' worth of sleep for the last couple of days, trying to wrangle up coastal support from some forts. Connor grinned to himself, inching over tentatively to nuzzle at Haytham's neck, but Haytham only shifted slightly, without even waking.

Deciding to improve his chances, Connor settled down against Haytham to wait - he'd give Haytham a few hours to fall deeper into sleep. Besides, an utterly exhausted Haytham wouldn't be in any frame of mind to appreciate Connor's lesson. 

When he estimated that enough time had passed, Connor edged over to where he had hidden a spare sash in the side drawer, and drew it out slowly, noiselessly. Haytham had rolled over onto his back in his sleep, his mouth slightly open, and he still looked exhausted - for a moment, Connor felt guilt, then he steeled himself. Old wolves had to learn to respect the young eventually, and Haytham's mood had been growing increasingly mercurial of late along with his stress level.

He'd thought that the tricky part would be tying Haytham's wrists together without waking him up, but as it turned out, Haytham didn't even stir as Connor drew both wrists over and bound them tight with the sash, and although his breathing changed note when Connor carefully tied the sash to a bedpost, drawing Haytham's wrists up loosely over his head, he didn't wake. 

Connor waited until Haytham's breathing evened again before shifting down, undoing and discarding his belt and unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt. Absorbed, he was making a start on the laces of Haytham's breeches when there was a sleepy, irritable, "Connor?"

"Mm?"

Haytham frowned at him as though he was struggling to focus, looking deliciously rumpled, then he seemed to realize belatedly that his hands were bound; he glanced up at the sash, then back down to Connor's hands, and growled, "I have a meeting at sunrise, and am in no mood to indulge you, boy."

"We'll see if you can be persuaded then, _old man_." Connor managed to manhandle Haytham's breeches and underclothes off him despite a rasping snarl and a kick, tossing them off the bed, then he grinned at Haytham's hiss when he reached over to cup balls with long fingers.

" _Connor_ ," Haytham grit out, tugging at his bindings experimentally. "This is terribly childish."

"Actually," Connor noted mildly, settling between Haytham's thighs and reaching over to pat Haytham's cheek mockingly, "I think that you need to learn a lesson about humility, _father_ , and about taking my help for granted." 

"I do seem to recall something along the matter of _debts_ ," Haytham snapped, baring his teeth, and the old wolf was growing angry now, Connor noted, exhilarated. He'll have to be careful. 

"I know my debts. But I won't suffer being treated like one of your lackeys. You're my father, and I do respect you - or I try to - but you, old wolf, need to learn some _boundaries_." Connor closed a dry hand tight over Haytham's cock and squeezed, and Haytham's hips jerked as he hissed.

"Connor. Untie me now and I'll overlook this. Otherwise, you'll regret this when I am free," Haytham warned, furious, but Connor merely grinned at him and dipped his head to press the flat of his tongue over a nipple. Haytham tensed up, but didn't make a sound, and shrugging, Connor decided to take his time - sunrise was a long way off, and he usually didn't have much chance to explore. Haytham seemed to treat sex with the same brutal efficiency as the rest of his life; nothing drawn out, nothing gentle, and Connor was curious. 

Haytham shuddered with a soft, stifled sound when Connor sucked, but when he glanced up, it was only to meet a set jaw and an angry glower. "Connor," Haytham growled. "Is it your intention to bore me to death?"

"Don't make me gag you, father."

"You wouldn't _dare_."

"Try me," Connor drawled, and Haytham sucked in a breath, only to choke and flinch when Connor nipped wet flesh and grinned. He felt a tremble go through the lean frame under him when he switched his attention to the other nub of flesh, but Haytham remained reproachfully silent, up until Connor nosed down to an old scar that wove its jagged way up Haytham's ribs, following it with the tip of his tongue, and he made a garbled, incoherent groan. When Connor looked up to check, however, Haytham was glaring up at his wrists, as though willing the sash to spontaneously combust, and chuckling, Connor pushed his tongue into Haytham's navel just to watch him jerk and hiss. 

"If you must persist in wasting my precious ti-" Sharp words twitched into a high gasp as Connor kissed a path down inner thighs to press kitten licks over heavy balls, greedily breathing in the masculine musk and the bitten-off moans above him, nuzzling a slow and torturous path up the straining arc of flesh to the swollen tip, and when he pressed his tongue over the slit for a taste, Haytham jerked his wrists against the bindings with a harsh groan. 

Grinning, Connor began to alternate light, teasing laps with hungry laves, working back down then up again, occasionally treating the leaking crown to a playful suck, chasing down any fluid with a moan, nuzzling over the flushed vein, until at last Haytham made a sound like a strangled sob, wet and ragged, and Connor belatedly shoved down his breeches far enough to free his straining cock, slipping up Haytham's arching body to kiss him. Lips froze for a moment against his mouth, as though Haytham was considering denying him entrance, then they gave, and Connor took the ground conceded greedily. 

This time, when he looked up, Haytham was watching him, the anger banked for now, leaving only a predator's curiosity, sniffing for weaknesses, and Connor answered that with a challenging smirk, all bared teeth, reaching over to the side table's drawer for the jar of oil that he had prepared. Haytham arched an eyebrow as he unscrewed it and dipped his fingers, then he growled and jerked back when Connor pointedly pressed the pads of his forefinger and middle finger between Haytham's thighs. 

"Connor-"

"You've been pinned, old man. Give in."

Haytham glowered at him, his throat working, then he jerked again as Connor pressed in his middle finger. "Are you... have you even done this to another person before?"

"I know how this works, father."

"So you haven't! Oh, _excellent_ ," Haytham said, his tone scathing, "This is going to be such an _instructional_ experience for all and sundry."

"You can always tell me if I'm doing something wrong," Connor noted, slightly annoyed now, "It's not as though you normally restrain yourself from making your opinion loudly known."

"Frankly," Haytham hissed out, behind gritted teeth, "I'm not entirely sure if this is meant to... ah... feel as though-"

Connor had managed to push in his finger to the knuckle, and he hesitated, frowning, as a thought occurred to him. "You haven't done this before?"

"It's been a very, very long time since I was young, and I do believe... uhg... that I was resoundingly drunk at the last instance, and... for _Heaven's sake_ , boy, you have an entire bottle of that blasted oil, use more of it!"

"Sorry," Connor muttered, then despite himself, even as he obeyed, he began to laugh, and Haytham rolled his eyes. 

"If you must insist on perpetrating this indignity upon my person I'll suffer you to at least make a credible attempt at... ngh..." Haytham tensed up again as Connor pressed his finger back in, his eyes going distant, as though concentrating, and eventually, his body relaxed enough for another digit, though his breath stuttered briefly. 

"Credible enough for you so far?" Connor asked dryly, probing, and Haytham winced and cursed him. "Ah. Sorry."

"God Almighty," Haytham growled, "I'm not entirely certain what is worse, your apparent incompetence at even simple mechanics or my dreadful oversight in failing to murder you when I had the chance-" This time, Haytham's words hitched into a startled moan, and he shivered when Connor rubbed deep again, satisfied. He had his father making the most incredible wounded gasps by the time he managed to fit in three fingers, and when he leaned up for a kiss, Haytham opened his mouth instantly. 

When Connor finally slicked up his cock and lined himself up, Haytham was unusually pliant, and the only sign of his discomfort was a pinch to his eyes and shallow gasps. Connor tucked long legs under his elbows and took Haytham's cock in hand, stroking until Haytham let out another stifled groan and pushed his hips demandingly into his fist. Slightly unsure, Connor started off tentative, with a roll of his hips, only for Haytham to snap, "Are you truly going to waste the _whole_ night? Move, boy!"

"I really should gag you," Connor muttered, though he obliged with a shallow snap of his hips that made Haytham dig his heels into the small of his back and hiss. It took a few more tries before he found the correct angle again, and the result was gratifying, tearing a raw cry from Haytham's throat. Setting his palms on Haytham's hips, he dragged him up to meet his next thrust, driving deep, and the pace turned punishing, primal, with Haytham arched and bucking beneath him, ecstasy making the blood rush hot through his veins; then Haytham abruptly choked out a raw gasp, spilling over his fingers, and Connor forced himself to wait, ground deep, to ride it out and watch Haytham shake apart under him. 

Haytham glanced up at him when he caught his breath, and in his handsome face there was only that wolfish stillness, again, that searching stare, then he narrowed his eyes and tilted up his chin, to bare his throat, and Connor moaned, dipping down to nuzzle his skin before biting down and snapping his hips up as he found his own release, physical completion dimmed under a primal, heady rush of elation. 

Connor had almost expected Haytham to try and retaliate the moment he freed his hands, but Haytham merely grumbled and massaged his wrists, arching an eyebrow at the oil spilled all over the sheets and the mess before rolling onto a dry spot and curling up, gingerly feeling against the bite over his neck. 

"Bloody savage," Haytham sighed, though he didn't shift away when Connor burrowed against his back and leaned up to press his lips over the reddening mark. "You're a grown man, not an animal."

"Mm." Connor reached over to pat Haytham's softened, tender cock pointedly, grinning when he hissed and jerked. "You seemed to enjoy it well enough."

"Perhaps there are... uses for your occasional displays of brutishness, but I trust that you'll try to be more _considerate_ in the future in application." 

"Noted." Old wolves could learn new tricks after all. Connor nuzzled the bite mark again, and made a rumbling sound of pleasure when long fingers groped back to card into his hair.

**Author's Note:**

> we can now drown in the mud


End file.
